Complicated
by TheMaskedQuill
Summary: She glanced at the security camera to her left. With that glance she had set into motion a chain of events that could end in her own destruction and the destruction of all that she holds dear. Set during season 3. Tiva.
1. The Crime

**This is an old story that I'm re-vamping and continuing now that I have a few more years of writing experience under my belt so if you feel like you've read it before don't worry, I just can't remember the password to my old account so I have to re-upload it. Hope you enjoy! **

Her chest was tight and her stomach clenched as she crept along the corridor. She turned and nodded at Gibbs and he immediately nodded back. She glanced at the security camera to her left, knowing that Tony, who was in a control room on the ship, could see her. She gave a small nod, that only he would notice. Although she did not know it then, with that glance she had set into motion a chain of events that could end her own destruction and the destruction of all she holds dear.

In her blissful ignorance she continued with the plan: Doing the moves than she had rehearsed, learned by heart and perfected. She kicked the door to the apartment and it flung open. She ran through holding her gun and flashlight high, quickly surveyed the room and shouted, "Clear!" before running to the door at the other end of the living room. Adrenaline made her blood pound in her ears but she, without needing to hear it, knew that Gibbs was still following closely behind her. In the second room they found what they had been searching for.

A naked crying woman lay on the bed in the centre of the room; her wrists were tied together with a rope at the base of her spine and another rope was tying her ankles together and looped around her neck. It was pulled tight, so even straightening her legs a little would end in her demise. It was the perfect crime: She would be forced to cause her own death. Petty Officer McMilligan, her kidnapper, knew that she would eventually become so uncomfortable that she would straighten her legs thus tighten the noose, either in her sleep or on purpose when it became too unbearable.

Ziva used to be accustomed to seeing crimes like this when she was in Israel, but since moving to DC she had got in touch with another side of herself, a more sensitive side. She felt her stomach tighten and bile rise in her throat before she remembered to harden herself to it. She might not be a ninja anymore, but she was still a damn good agent.

~.o.~

After the crime scene had been searched and the victim had been given a quick medical examination by Ducky, Gibbs disappeared leaving Ziva to question the woman who, since being untied, had become steadily more hysterical. Her attempts at trying to get any sense out of her were futile so she gave up and, leaving the victim in the interrogation room, she went to her desk in the squad room. It was pitch black outside, about midnight she guessed. Her head was throbbing and her bed at home had been calling to her and steadily getting louder, so she was very grateful when ten minutes later Gibbs arrived with two cups of coffee, one for himself and one for her, and an order for her to go home and get some rest. He seemed tense, but she didn't ask why, he wouldn't have told her anyway.

She held it together as she drove home, let herself into her house and got ready for bed, but as she crawled beneath the sheet she allowed herself to feel again. Her throat burned ached with the effort to not cry so she gave up. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut as she released the sob she'd been keeping in since this evening. She had always been so strong, so emotionless, so cold, but being in DC awakened something in her. No one had ever seen this side of her: The soft side - It had almost been extinguished when she worked for Mossad but the way the team here interacted, the love between them, showed her what she had missed all those years and, despite her best efforts, she reciprocated and responded. Through her tears she smiled a little as she remembered one of DiNozzo's movie references, something about a snitch whose heart grew three sizes that day. That sounded more like her than she cared to admit. The tears continued until she became so exhausted that her body just shut down and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~.o.~

She awoke with a start when her cell phone, which she had left beside her bed, rang. Sleepy and dazed she reached for her weapon, which was beneath her pillow and began to sit up, but her head gave a throb of protest and she lay back down again. Slower this time she raised her head and looked at the clock – it was only 2:30. Her stomach knotted. _Something was wrong. _She grabbed her phone and pressed it to her ear. "Hello?" She croaked.

"Ziva." It was Director Sheppard, her voice was strained.

"Director – what is it?" she was wide awake now.

"Sorry to wake you but you're needed as a matter of urgency."

Ziva dragged herself out of bed and began to get ready to leave as Jenny rhymed of an address to her. With one sock on she froze and her heart stopped "But… That's Tony's address."

There was a moment of silence before the director replied, "…Yes." She hung up before Ziva could ask more, leaving a very confused Ziva to finish changing, hastily tie back her hair and grab her weapon from beneath her pillow. Then, trying to control the churning in her gut, she grabbed her car keys and left her apartment. _She had a bad feeling about this._

**Feel free to review and leave any constructive criticism. The next chapter will be uploaded asap! **


	2. Eight and A Half Hours Missing

Ziva parked her car between Gibbs' and McGee's cars outside Tony's house. His garden was surrounded by police tape, but there was no one standing outside so she ducked under it and jogged through the front door.

The door led straight into the living room which was empty. She walked carefully through the room - so she didn't disturb any possible evidence - and into the kitchen where McGee was making coffee. She noticed that he was wearing latex gloves and wrinkled her brow; She knew Tony's house wasn't the cleanest but she'd never knew McGee to be so afraid of germs. "Tim, what is going on?"

"Tony's gone missing; he called Gibbs to say he arrested McMilligan earlier but they never showed, he hasn't been home and he's not answering his cell either." At his words Ziva had to fight to keep the sick feeling in her stomach at bay. She had known it as soon as the director had called her but she hadn't wanted to believe it. She drew in a deep breath and pushed the panic she felt back down, trying to clear her mind. She had a lot of questions but none that she knew how to phrase or wanted to know the answers to so she eventually settled on the easiest one.

"Why are you just making coffee then?"

"The director won't let us take the case,"

"That's bull-!" she started angrily but she stopped short and rephrased what she was going to say, "So why are we here, instead of asleep?" It came out sharper than she had intended. "…Sorry Tim, I didn't mean to pop at you I just don't understand why the director wants us here when she won't let us do anything."

"Gibbs convinced her to let us have a look around in case we pick up on something that another team wouldn't because we're closer to him." Ziva raised an eyebrow and McGee continued, "…I think she owes him a favour."

McGee finished making the tea and pushed a cup into her hands. She leant against the counter and took a mouthful of her tea. She didn't really want it but it gave her something to do with her hands. They stood in silence for a few moments until it became almost unbearable.

"Where is Gibbs?" Ziva finally asked.

"He's in the bedroom, I think." Said McGee, he began to say something else but stopped when Ziva put down her cup next to the sink and walked out through the door. He sighed; this was going to be a long night.

"Gibbs," said Ziva as she walked through the bedroom door. Her boss was on his hands and knees on the floor with his head turned to the side so he could see under the bed. "Are we really going to not investigate this case?"

"Nope," As he said it he pulled a laptop bag from beneath the bed and stood up.

She began to retort, then paused for a second remembering a conversation she'd had with Tony about double negatives, "Wait... we're not going to not investigate it... so we _are_ going to?"

"Yep," said Gibbs smirking. She knew that smirk; it meant they weren't allowed to but they were going to anyway. At least that was one less thing she had to worry about.

Gibbs thrust the laptop into her hands and gave her a wink before leaving to check the bathroom.

Over the next few hours Ziva copied the contents of his laptop, photographed most of his apartment and memorised Tony's calendar for the last month _just in case. _

At 05:00 hours they left his apartment in exactly the same way they'd found it, leaving no trace that they'd been there at all. It was only two hours until they were due to start work so Ziva didn't bother to go home, she wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway so she went straight to the Navy Yard. She needed to analyse the data she'd gotten from Tony's laptop and review the photos she'd taken but she opted for showers first. So she grabbed a change of clothes that she kept in her desk drawer and headed to the gym. She stayed in the shower a little longer than usual, trying in vain to wash away the events of the previous night as if shampooing her hair an extra time would bring Tony back, but eventually she got out, changed her outfit, brushed her teeth and combed her hair.

She was still back at her desk before the rest of the team showed up. To give herself something to do she read through all of Tony's emails dating back from the past week. She didn't want to miss anything that could help them with the case, but all she found out was that Tony was meant to have had a date with someone called Natalie last night and that his subscription to Busty Babes magazine ends next month. Tony was usually the next to arrive and he usually brought her a cup of tea but since he obviously wasn't coming in she had to wait until just before seven for McGee to arrive. She was very grateful that he had taken into account Tony's absence and brought her a cup of tea. It was stronger than she liked it but it would do. He was followed shortly by Gibbs who didn't even stop to say good morning before he passed them to go to Abby's lab. Ziva and McGee looked at each other, unsure as to whether or not they should follow. "C'mon then," said Gibbs not looking round at them, and they hastily followed.

"Abigail, I got your email, would you care to enlighten us as to what has happened to young Anthony?" said Ducky from inside Abby's lab. Palmer, Ducky and Abby were huddled in a circle when the three agents entered. There was no music playing.

"Gibbs!" yelled Abby when she saw him, she ran to him and hugged him before hugging McGee and Ziva as well. "What happened to DiNozzo?"

"We don't know yet Abs- but we're going to find out," said Gibbs handing the goth a Caf-Pow. "Ziver, I need you to pull DiNozzo's phone records,"

"Would anyone care to enlighten me as to what is going on?" asked Ducky as Ziva ran to Abby's computer.

"Tony went undercover for the McMilligan case and..." started Gibbs

"The McMilligan case?" asked Palmer, who was listening in, "is that the one with the marine forcing those women to strangle themselves?"

"Yes," said McGee then he took over from Gibbs telling the story, "Tony went undercover on the same ship as McMilligan and we had just found enough evidence to convict him so we gave Tony orders to arrest him, he rang to say he had him and was on his way back. He hasn't been heard from since and he isn't answering his cell." Abby, Ducky and Palmer listened intently to the story and not knowing how to respond just stood in silence afterwards.

Ziva broke the silence, "The director won't let us work the case," she told them and looks of dismay and horror crossed their faces.

"But you're going to do it anyway?" asked Abby, "right?" she looked hopefully at Gibbs.

"'Course Abs, I need you to re-examine all the evidence and Ducky make sure you haven't missed anything, Ziva go back to yesterday's crime scene and look for evidence before anyone else gets there, take McGee with you."

The team began to walk off when he added, "And don't get caught!" before throwing his empty coffee cup in the bin and taking over scanning the phone records from Ziva.

**I have two more chapters pre-written, I just need to update them because they're currently what fifteen year-old me thought was decent writing and I'm trying to make them what eighteen year-old me would be happy to have on the internet. Any ideas you have about where this story should go are much appreciated, and again please send any reviews and constructive criticism. **


	3. Twelve Hours Ago

_**12 hours ago**_

He watched the screen, slightly impatiently, awaiting the signal; he'd been waiting in the same tiny room for about eight hours now. He'd even resorted to actually _reading_ the articles in Busty Babes magazine and amusing himself by playing Tetris on his phone. He sighed; they really were taking their time. Just as he thought that for what was perhaps the hundredth time that hour he saw them walk into view, closed his game and sat up a little straighter. His back gave a creak of protest and he let out an audible groan. He saw Ziva glance at the camera and tilt her head slightly, that was all he needed. Sore back forgotten, he shut down the program he'd been using – he could get into serious shit for hacking the security tapes without a warrant – and leapt from his seat. He paused for a moment to do a small dance of joy then jogged out of the control room and down the narrow hallway of the ship. He'd been worried near the end there. The ship was leaving port in half an hour and if he hadn't got the signal before then he would have had to stay undercover for at least another week until the ship docked again.

He made his way quickly to the small control room where he knew McMilligan would be. He was there alone, sitting at a desk with his feet up in a similar way to how Tony had been sitting minutes before. _Haha, the element of surprise is on my side _thought Tony to himself, a little prematurely. MicMilligan had caught sight of Tony out of the corner of his eye and jumped to his feet faster than Tony had expected. He ran out of the door at the other end of the control room. _Of course, _thought Tony. _They never want to come easily. _He sighed and pulled his gun from the holster before running after him.

McMilligan was a marine and, although Tony was an agent, he lived on a diet of takeaways and spent all his spare time watching movies, so it was easy to tell who the faster runner was. However, spurred on by adrenaline and his desire to get off this boat Tony was never very far behind. He chased him through the next room and down another narrow hallway. The hallway was lined with doors which led to tiny rooms with two tiny bunks for the marines and every fifth door led to a small store room. McMilligan threw open one of these doors and ran inside. Tony followed McMilligan through it. He was feeling rather smug then because he knew that McMilligan would be trapped and forced to surrender.

The Petty Officer turned when he saw the back of the store room and snarled. Tony laughed as he pulled out his handcuffs with the hand that wasn't holding his gun. He put his gun back in the holster then cuffed McMilligan's hands together. He held the cuffed man still with one hand on his shoulder and took his cell phone from his pocket and phoned Gibbs with his other hand. "Hey Boss," said Tony, once Gibbs answered, "I got him, I'm on my way out now." He didn't wait for an answer before he hung up then, smiling at his victory, he turned to lead McMilligan back out of the store.

That was the last thing Tony knew until he awoke four hours later in the same room. _Bastard, _he thought, when he realised what had happened. McMilligan had hit him – hard. He slowly stood up. Other than a low throb in his head he felt fine. No nausea or dizziness, he definitely wasn't concussed and he knew the Petty Officer hadn't hit him hard enough to fracture his skull. He walked to the door and wiggled the handle. Locked. He glanced around for some alternative exit. There was a vent in the top corner but there was no way he would fit in there. He smirked, perhaps if McMilligan forgot to feed him for a month he could maybe squeeze in.

He reached up and tentatively touched his forehead where McMilligan had hit him. It was wet; blood. Luckily he was in a cleaning supplies store so he easily found a cloth to press to his head until the blood stopped. He checked his pockets for his phone, but it was gone along with his gun and his back-up.

Tony sat down on the ground and closed his eyes for a second. He had had plans tonight: A _gorgeous _blonde… Natasha… or Nicole? He'd have to call her when he got home and tell her that he'd got hung up at work. She wouldn't believe him but she'd agree to meet him anyway. If she'd agreed to meet up with _him _in the first place then she obviously wasn't looking for a long-term relationship. He smiled for a second, and then frowned when he thought of what he should have been doing right now were he not stuck in this store. Then he thought of Ziva. She would be worried about him when he didn't turn up for work in the morning, but she probably wouldn't show anyone that she was worried. She wasn't a sharing feelings kinda gal. That would probably be when they notice he's missing.

Despite his better judgement his mind drifted to the first time they went undercover together, or _under covers _as it turned out. He chuckled at his own joke. She really was very beautiful. Screw rule number twelve! If he was going to starve to death and be eaten by maggots in this store he wanted to do it with the thought of Ziva's perfect, naked…

No, he probably shouldn't resign himself to dying in here yet. He stood up and looked through the small square window in the door. It didn't show very much other than that there was no one in the few meters of hallway that he could see. He wished he knew what time it was so he could know whether or not he would be wasting his energy by knocking on the walls between his store and the bunk room next door. He cursed under his breath as he felt panic rising inside him. He wanted to stay calm and not bang on the door and yell and scream like a maniac, but that took an amount of self-control which he just didn't possess.

He shouted until his throat was raw and he was exhausted but still no one answered so he lay on his back on the floor in defeat. There was justr enough room for him to lie with his feet pressed against the door and his head smooshed at a funny angle against the shelves behind him. It was like that 1973 movie _Trapped _with James Brolin and Susan Clark except this was the wrong type of store and there were no Dobermans… Dobermen? Scary dogs. He was still thinking about the dogs when he fell into a fitful sleep.

Petty Officer McMilligan paced backwards and forwards in his tiny bunk room. He sighed, sat down, then stood back up and resumed his pacing again. _This was bad. _He ran his hand through his short hair. _He should kill him and pretend he'd never seen him! No, he should negotiate with him. Maybe he'd believe him?_ He sat on the edge of the bed again and steadied his shaking hands by pressing them between his legs. He had to think it through properly before he acted. NCIS had come here for the first time four months ago, this guy and another girl, and they'd questioned him and took his fingerprints to help with a kidnapping case: A military wife from Seattle had gone missing and they got an anonymous tip that it had been someone matching his description, so they put out a BOLO and his commander had replied. Then two months ago another man had come to his home while he was on leave and rummaged through all his things. Next thing he knew his hair and fingerprints were found at a new crime scene and he was being arrested on a triple count of sexual assault and homicide.

He hadn't meant to hurt that guy, he'd just panicked. They would have locked him up and not listened to him when he tried to tell them the truth! He should go and unlock him, explain what happened. He'd get in trouble for assaulting a federal agent but maybe they'd cut him a deal?

Tony was awoken again when he heard the door to his store being unlocked. He automatically reached for his gun, then remembered he didn't have it so he jumped up of the ground - Ready to fight or run if he had to.

It was McMilligan. Tony jumped to defence but once he got a good look at McMilligan it was easy to see that he was not a threat. His hair was ruffled, like he'd run his hands through it many times, and the sides and front were plastered to his face with sweat. His cheeks were tear stained and pale.

McMilligan shut the door and locked it again before turning around to face Tony. They stood in silence, eyeing each other up for a moment before eventually McMilligan spoke, "I didn't do it."

"I believe you." said Tony. He wasn't sure he did, but McMilligan didn't seem very stable so he was willing to say whatever it took to get him out of this store. He spoke quietly and slowly to keep the Petty Officer calm. "Just give me my phone back and I'll get my team to re-examine the evidence." It was a long-shot but if McMilligan really was innocent then maybe he would cooperate. However it didn't have the desired effect.

The marine suddenly flew into a violent rage. He pushed Tony with both of his hands against his chest and sent him flying back into the shelves at the back of the store. Tony was caught off-guard, he was _a lot _stronger than he had expected. Tony fell to the ground and three of the five shelves fell on top of him. Before he could properly register what had happened Petty Officer McMilligan was on top of him dragging him back up. "I bet it was you! Was it you? WAS IT YOU?!" He snarled into Tony's neck, getting louder and louder. Tony hoped it would catch someone's attention.

Tony struggled to get out of McMilligan's grip but he just held tighter, "It wasn't me." croaked Tony, "I swear!" He wasn't entirely sure what he was being accused of but if being innocent of it got him away from this mad man then that was the story he was sticking to. He felt his grip loosen, but only for a moment, then he lifted Tony up farther so his feet were barely touching the floor.

"Liar!" He shouted before dropping Tony to the ground and kicking him repeatedly in the stomach, the chest, the face, any piece of him that he could reach. Tony tried to fight back but McMilligan was a big man and he had a whole lot of rage. His world began to close in and the edges of his vision went dark but he fought to stay awake for as long as he could, knowing that as soon as he was unconscious he had no control over the situation. Just as Tony was about to give up, McMilligan stopped hitting him and swayed on the spot for a second. Tony blinked blearily trying to watch him in between falling in and out of consciousness, but, when McMilligan fell, Tony was too drowsy to get out of the way on time was knocked unconscious by the impact of the large Marine's head hitting his. In the same instant both men were cast into oblivion.

**I have one more chapter that I had pre-written from a few years ago but I feel like I should add a bit more between this chapter and that one, so that means the next chapter is new material - woo! **


	4. Twenty-one Hours Missing

Gibbs thrusted the CafPow in her hands but for the first time _ever _she didn't want it. She had spent the past twenty minutes talking in a hushed tone with Palmer, discussing who was going to tell him. Somehow Gibbs liking her more meant that she got the short straw.

Abby's lab was still in silence, she hadn't had her music on all day and she'd barely noticed. She'd been too worried about DiNozzo. Gibbs had sat with her through most of the morning while he checked up on Tony's phone records – he couldn't do it in the squad room because he wasn't meant to be working the case and didn't want to get caught – but since he left she'd been on her own examining and re-examining the evidence from the McMilligan case.

Blood. Saliva. Semen. Fingerprints.

blood. saliva. semen. fingerprints.

blood, saliva, semen, fingerprints,

blood,saliva,semen,fingerprints,

bloodsalivasemenfingerprints

It was all fucking there.

It didn't make sense anymore.

She hadn't liked it from the beginning, and now she was feeling more and more like she should have trusted her gut rather than what forensics was telling her. It wasn't right.

"Abby." Palmer had called her from the door of her lab, so as to not startle her. She turned around and as soon as she saw his face she knew that Ducky had come to the same conclusion she had, and she knew he could see _that_ look on her face too because he muttered, "Crap." under his breath.

In a second he was across the lab with his arms around her. "We killed Dinozzo." She wailed into his shoulder. She wasn't thinking clearly anymore.

"We don't know that… anyone would have made the same mistake… it's not your fault." His words of comfort didn't help then and they still didn't help as she remembered them now.

"Gibbs." She said it quietly. She wouldn't meet his eye and she wasn't wearing any lipstick. He already knew what she was going to say, he felt it in his gut.

"C'mere." He drew her to him and kissed the top of her head before squeezing her tight. She didn't hug him back, just stood there with her arms limply by her side and her forehead pressed into his shoulder while he rubbed her back. After a while he let her go and turned to her desk, looking for something. "Tell me what we got, Abs." He said as he handed her a tube of dark red lipstick which had been sitting in front of her computer monitor.

She gulped, pushing down the rest of the tears that were threatening to come out. "I killed DiNozzo."

"DiNozzo isn't dead and we're going to find him." There was a harshness in his voice that hadn't been there before, and it calmed her down. If Gibbs wasn't scared right now then she didn't have to be.

"I've been re-examining all the evidence from the McMilligan case." She said as she walked to her lab table, "and it's all here."

"…Yeah?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Well that's just it: In the last four months eight women fitting the same profile, including the vic from yesterday, have gone missing, and seven have turned up dead, all killed in the same way. It's methodical and calculated. We're definitely dealing with a serial killer, this guy knows what he's doing." She drew a breath while Gibbs processed what she'd said so far. "In comparison to the thought behind the crime the execution of it was sloppy. He left blood, saliva, semen and fingerprints. Which I would expect from a crime of passion, but not something like this.

"So either, someone came up with the plan and told Petty Officer McMilligan exactly what to do and watched him screw it all up -"

"Or?" Gibbs cut her off.

"He was framed."

~.o.~

"I need you to have a look at these photographs and tell me which of these men was the one who attacked you." Gibbs tried to keep his voice very quiet and calm, but still he saw the look of panic flicker across her face. "If you can help us find this guy, you can prevent what happened to you happening to dozens of other women." He said as he slid the folder of photograpshs towards the woman.

She took a shaky breath as she reached out a hand and set it on the folder. "What if I can't do it?" she stuttered out feeling her eyes prickle with tears and her breath begin to come faster.

"Then he walks." She gasped audibly when Gibbs replied and began sobbing. Behind the two way mirror Ziva rolled her eyes - She may have become more emotional recently, but this was just pathetic. "Just take your time." Gibbs reassured her, as he handed her a tissue.

She wiped her eyes and pressed her clenched fist with the tissue in it between her legs to stop her hand from shaking. With her other hand she slowly opened the file. There were five photos in there. Special Agent Gibbs reached across the table and spread them in front of her. They were all of men in their late thirties, slightly greying with crew cuts and hard jaws. She ran her eyes over all of the pictures. She hadn't wanted to do it ever again but she cast her mind back to the previous night, trying to relive her attack.

"_Get off me!" she squealed hysterically, thrashing her arms and legs, but she was pressed to the bed beneath his enormous weight, so her movement was restricted too much to cause any damage to him. He grabbed her hands and pinned them to the base of her spine forcefully, using one hand. With the other he pushed her head into the mattress so she couldn't lift it. She strained her eyes in an effort to see him but all that she could see was the dark green of his cargo pants digging into her mattress by her side. _

"I'm sorry. I don't think I saw his face." She squeaked across the table at Agent Gibbs.

"Anything at all that you remember?"

"_Let me go!" The scream tore through her throat; she wouldn't have a voice for much longer._

"_And why would I do that?" he snarled into her neck, his stubble scratching her soft skin. The stink of cigars on his breath was revolting. He tangled his hand in her hair and dragged her head up off the mattress. He pinned her to him effortlessly with his left arm while he reached beneath her with his right hand. She hadn't noticed the rope before, but she couldn't ignore it now as he pulled it tighter and tighter around her throat…_

"He smoked cigars." She choked out, crying steadily now.

"Anything else?"

"I think he'd been fighting. There was blood beneath his fingernails and his right hand." She put her face in her hands. Gibbs knew that was all he was going to get from her.

"Good job." He picked up the photos and the folder. Ziva joined him in the hallway.

"He's not our guy?" She questioned, she hadn't really expected an answer so she wasn't shocked when none came.


	5. Twenty-five Hours Missing

_**4 hours later**_

McGee was lying back in his chair sleeping softly with his hands reached out in front of him towards his keyboard and Ziva, who was sitting at her desk, had her head rested on her left arm which was draped across the table. In her other hand she still held a pen poised above her notepad, but she was also sleeping, apparent from the low grumble that emerged from her throat every other second.

The peaceful scene was disrupted suddenly when the elevator door, which led into the squad room, opened with a beep. Ziva immediately jumped to attention but McGee continued to sleep until Gibbs and Director Sheppard emerged from it.

"Why am I just hearing about this now?!" Gibbs roared. McGee jumped awake with a small shout, earning him a look of undisguised disgust from the director, Gibbs however, didn't seem to notice. His face was a few shades redder than Ziva had ever seen it before and the veins in his forehead pulsed.

"Because you're not working the case, Jethro." Jenny was evidently also annoyed, but she was much calmer than Gibbs, who looked as though he might explode. Gibbs had _overheard _the team who were currently working on the case discussing that they had gotten the warrant to search the ship just before it was scheduled to leave, so they had been forced to postpone leaving the dock.

"I have a man on that ship!"

"No you don't!" This time Jenny responded with equal venom, catching everyone off guard. She took a deep breath, held it for a second and then once she had collected herself she replied in a forced calm tone, "The ship was searched from top to bottom. There is no way Tony is on it."

There was a moment of silence as what she said sunk in. Ziva and McGee made eye contact across the squad room with the same look of horror on their faces as they felt similar sinking feelings in the pit of their stomach. Eventually Gibbs replied in the same forced calm way, "And McMilligan?"

"He was there."

"Did you bring him in?"

"…In a sense, but Gibbs –"

"Where is he?!" His voice was getting steadily louder again.

"Jethro –"

"Cut the crap, Jenny!"

"He's in autopsy."

"WITH ME!" It took Ziva and McGee a second to realise that he was talking to them, but when they did they jumped up from their desks and scampered after him towards the elevator. They just made it in before the doors closed. Standing in such close proximity to Gibbs who was practically pulsating with fury was quite frightening for McGee, and even Ziva found it a little intimidating. When the doors opened again Gibbs was the first out and he set off down the hall with such determination that Ziva and McGee had to jog to keep up with him.

"DUCK!" Yelled Gibbs, before he was even through the door.

"I'm sorry Jethro -" Ducky already knew what he was going to say and wanted to cut him off before he got too carried away.

"Don't apologise, it's a sign of weakness." Gibbs snapped. Then he took a deep breath, which everyone assumed would be followed by the explosion that seemed inevitable; however he just blew it back out again and was suddenly calm. That was almost more frightening to McGee than the shouting had been. "You should have told me."

"I only just found out myself. Our director has only just informed me of our new occupant." Gibbs responded by muttering under his breath, no one needed to hear what he said to know that the director wouldn't have liked it. "I was also notified that I've been excused from my duties in relation to the McMilligan case until further notice, due to – well, you, Jethro." Gibbs opened his mouth to interject but Ducky held up his hand then continued, "I do however know who is working on the case." Ducky finished, giving them a conspiratorial wink.

~.o.~

"I'm in." Abby grinned. She didn't feel like smiling at all, but the thought that she was able to help find Tony was enough to brighten her spirits just a little. Ziva grinned back. This was going to be fun.

~.o.~

"Um… Boss? I still don't quite understand the plan." McGee admitted. Gibbs had sent him, rather forcefully, to the vending machine down the hall, while he, Ziva and Ducky waited in autopsy. He thought it was unfair that he had to go himself and juggle the four coffee cups but he didn't want to cross Gibbs right now so he complied. He bought them with his own money and carried them back with one cup in each hand and the other two balanced dangerously on his forearms. He passed Ziva on his way back as she walked out of autopsy and turned right towards Abby's lab. He asked her for her help with the cups but she just laughed and walked past him. He heard her giggling and muttering to herself in Arabic in a maniacal sort of way the whole way down the hall. Just as he was about to step back through the double doors they opened and Ducky and Gibbs stepped out. Each of them taking one of his shoulders, they led him back to the lift.

All three of them were now sitting in the squad room: Gibbs smiling to himself, Ducky refusing to make eye contact with anyone and McGee very confused.

"You don't need to understand it, Tim," Answered Gibbs. McGee looked a little hurt as he realised that he was being kept out of the loop intentionally. "You wouldn't hold up under interrogation."

~.o.~

Meanwhile in Abby's lab, the plan was coming along without a hitch. After a day of unnerving silence any passers-by were simply relieved to hear her music back on. They didn't think to question why. They also didn't think to question why her doors were closed and bolted, when they were usually open. Had they been able to see inside they might have realised something wasn't right when they saw that all the lights were turned out bar one small lamp at the very back of her lab, away from prying eyes. And they would have known something was definitely wrong when they realised that in the circle of light cast by that small lamp was Jimmy Palmer.

Jimmy had just about finished up for the night when he heard a knock on the door of the autopsy room he'd been reassigned to. He opened it a little and saw Abby standing there grinning up at him. "Hi Jimmy!" Said the goth cheerily. He should have been thrown off-guard by how happy she sounded since DiNozzo was missing, but he was so psyched that the director was letting him conduct his own autopsy that he'd almost entirely forgotten the sad circumstances that that happened under.

"Oh, hello Abby!" He opened the door the rest of the way revealing that she wasn't alone, beside her stood Ziva David, Mossad Assassin.

"Sorry Jimmy." Said Abby, as Ziva lunged forward and with cat-like reflexes hit just the right spot on Palmer's neck, causing him to collapse unconscious into Abby's arms.

That was the easy part. Now they had to get him back to Abby's lab without being seen. Thankfully for them, there was a spare gurney in the room he had been in. Between them they bundled him on to it and covered him in a sheet. They would be fine now unless they bumped into someone who was 'in the know'. No one else would question a forensic scientist wheeling an entire corpse to her lab, so they just had to hope they didn't bump into anyone who knew better. Ziva would have had no problem knocking them out too, but the less people who saw them abducting the autopsy assistant the less likely they were to get fired for it.

They made it the whole way to Abby's lab without seeing anyone and just when they were certain they were safe, they heard her. "Abby, Director Sheppard sent me to get the test results from -" Agent Lee stopped short when she saw the gurney. "I didn't think dealing with corpses was under your jurisdiction, Miss Scuito." She sounded suspicious.

"Ducky said I could help!" blurted Abby. "See, when I first joined NCIS I was really scared of autopsy. Like, I wouldn't even go through the door. It was nearly a phobia. Actually it was so bad it probably was a phobia – I should have seen someone about that, but I didn't think to. You know the way you never think something is as bad as it really is until it's in the past. Hindsight is a wonderful thing." Agent Lee tried to cut her off but Abby was determined so she just started talking louder and faster. "Anyway, about the corpse: I used to be so scared that I wouldn't even go in there without Gibbs, but I got better. Like way better, and last month Ducky even let me help in one his autopsies and he's really swamped today because they reassigned Jimmy, so he said I could help again, but Jimmy needs the big room, and Rufus is using the back-up so we have to do it in my lab. Except, Ducky and Gibbs got lunch together this afternoon and he ate some bad shrimp so he's running a little late and asked me to go on ahead and bring the body up." As she'd been speaking she'd had been herding Agent Lee closer and closer to the door. "Thanks for calling in Michelle, that's really sweet of you! Tell the director I'm very sorry but I don't have them yet!" At that Abby closed the door in her face and bolted it. Just in time too, because then their 'corpse' started moving.

~.o.~

"Abigail!" The Director had been knocking on the door to Abby's lab for ten minutes before she gave up and used her set of keys to open it herself. She knew something was up the second she opened the door. She reached over to the wall on the right and flicked the light switch. She didn't know what she'd been expecting but this certainly wasn't it.

In the back right hand corner of the lab sat Jimmy Palmer. He was wearing his usual suit, minus the pants – which were folded on the floor a few feet from him, and his shoes. She couldn't be sure but from the translucent liquid dripping from the chair he was sitting on she could only assume that the base of his boxers had been super-glued to the seat. His arms were tied expertly behind his back with rope and duct tape held his mouth closed. Sitting on the ground by his feet was Agent David, who had one of his shiny black shoes in one hand and a knife in the other. She had the knife through the bottom of the shoe and back out the top and was twisting it slowly, much to Jimmy's distress, when Jenny entered. Abigail stood slightly behind him, her hands leaning on his shoulders.

When they saw Jenny they both stopped and looked up. Abby looked like a deer caught in the headlights and Ziva just looked deviant. "Director -" Blurted Abby, but Ziva cut her off.

"_Neik_. Why do people keep interrupting me? First Abby, now you!" She would do whatever it took to get Tony back, even if that meant getting fired and deported, but she knew that Abby's job meant the world to her. She wasn't going to let her go down for this too.

"Palmer - this is going to be the second time this month I'll have to reprimand you for engaging in intercourse of a sexual nature on base." Said Jenny, in a matter of fact way. They all looked as confused as each other and Palmer tried to retort, but the duct tape prevented him from doing anything other than grunting. "Agent Lee informed me that Doctor Mallard was breeching protocol by removing bodies from autopsy, but now I see that that was just your cover story so you didn't have to tell her she wasn't the only female member of staff you've been… having liaisons with," Said Jenny slyly. She cared as much about Tony as Gibbs did, she just tried to follow protocol as well. She was willing to make a few exceptions. She sauntered back towards the door of the lab, but as she was leaving she threw a look back over her shoulder and said, "Abigail, you'll have to show me how you tied that knot. I'm very impressed." Then she gave them a wink before flicking off the light switch again.

~.o.~

"Got it, Gibbs." Ziva dropped the autopsy report that Palmer had been working on on to the desk in front of her boss, while McGee looked on astonished. "Jimmy was surprisingly compliant." She said with a malicious grin.


	6. Twenty-eight Hours Missing

**Apologies for how uncaring Ziva seems when I said it was going to be a Tiva fic, but I'm doing my best to show her feelings without it getting too OOC, and the truth is, Ziva just doesn't show them very well in the show. I'm getting to the point a little more now though. Having watched S5EP1 I'm a little clearer on how I should portray them without getting too soppy. Also, in relation to this next chapter: I know nothing about medical science so, if you know any better, please don't judge me too hard. Please keep reviewing, they are all appreciated. **

"Jethro, this is a little unorthodox."

"Just do what you can, Duck." Gibbs slapped a hand on to Ducky's back, as he looked over his shoulder.

"I tend to agree with Ducky, Gibbs. Is this really necessary? We already know the director isn't going to crust us."

"Bust, Ziva." Piped up McGee, "But if someone catches her catching us she'll have to."

"Just do it." Gibbs said, with a nod at Ducky. He handed the brown file to the doctor and watched as he laid out the pictures of Petty Officer McMilligan in front of him.

Ducky was sitting on the wooden seat at one end of Gibbs' boat in his basement with the autopsy photographs laid out on the floor in front of him. McGee sat in Gibbs' swivel chair to their right and Ziva was lounging against the table cleaning beneath her nails with her knife.

When Ducky finished laying out the photos he closed the file and handed it to McGee. He looked around at Gibbs, who was looking at him expectantly, with an uncertain look on his face, swallowed, then looked back at the photographs.

"Well, the bruising and abrasion on his forehead suggests that our Petty Officer received some sort of blow to the frontal lobe, however without the body it is impossible to determine whether the damage went any farther than skin deep to help us determine whether he had suffered blunt force trauma. My estimation is that it may have occurred when he fell into the closet. However the bruising seems to have a centralised location, suggesting that he didn't get it upon impact the ground, but rather another object. Did Doctor Palmer mention it in his autopsy report, Timothy?

"Umm…" McGee hadn't expected to be asked questions. He fumbled opening the folder a scanned the writing for a few minutes before replying, "He mentioned that there was bruising which was congruent with a collision with another human skull, or with something of similar resistance, however there was no internal damage, suggesting that he had not been hit with any great force. He ruled it not the cause of death."

"Hmm…" said Ducky thoughtfully as he scanned the pictures. He leant closer to one of the photos before picking it up. "He seems to have been involved in some form of confrontation." The photo he was holding showed the hand of the Petty Officer. "If I had my lab, I could blow this photo up and get a closer look, but under the current circumstances I'm going to have to make assumptions. It looks to me as though the cuticle on his first and fore fingers is torn, suggesting that sometime shortly before his death he was making a fist. The lacerations on his knuckles suggest that he was fighting with someone, and whoever it was was losing."

Ziva had been attempting to maintain a cool composure but at this she suddenly looked up. "Tony." She hadn't been asking if it was him, or even telling them that she thought it was. She wasn't sure why she had said his name but it had formed in her mind and shot out of her mouth before she could stop it. It took her a second to realise it had happened, and then another second to realise why – she had been calling out for him. Everyone in the room had been thinking his name too.

"McGee, get on the floor!" Gibbs was the first one to break the silence.

"Uh… Boss?" McGee looked confused as he slid of his chair and on to the ground.

"Lie down." McGee lay on his back on the floor of Gibbs' basement awkwardly with his arms by his side. "Ziva. On top." Gibbs motioned for her to join him.

Ziva walked to where McGee was lying and stood with her feet shoulder width apart, on either side of his feet. In one swift movement she dropped and caught herself with her outstretched hands, just before her head hit his. She had worked out what Gibbs was asking them to do. McGee on the other hand was still a little confused.

"How does that look Duck?" questioned Gibbs.

"Not quite. See the angle Miss David's head would have hit McGee's at? The bruising would be further down the forehead."

"McGee, lift your head up." Finally understanding what was going on, McGee lifted his head to look at where Ziva had been standing. Ziva responded by dropping into a push up and gently nudging his head with hers.

Gibbs looked quizzically at Ducky, who nodded solemnly. Ziva continued to push McGee's head with hers until the back of it hit off the ground. "Could he have survived it?" Asked Ziva quietly, climbing back off McGee.

"The good news is, unless there were any underlying issues a blow like this would almost certainly be non-fatal, to either party."

"And the bad?"

"The bad news is that that means we still don't have a cause of death." concluded Ducky. "There are few other outward signs of a struggle, especially not one that could have resulted in death. So, whatever we're hoping to find, is solely internal. Without the body there's not much more I can do to help, so we're going to have to rely on Mr Palmer's observations."

"Oh, I'm sure we could _convince _him to let us have a look at the body." Said Ziva with a twinkle in her eye.

"Don't traumatise the poor boy anymore. I caught him hiding in the wash room this evening when Abigail came down with some test results.

Timothy, what has Mr Palmer listed as the cause of death?"

"Officially: heart failure" Replied McGee, "although there is something interesting here which might be of use, but you're not going to want to hear it."

"Spit it out McGee!" Demanded Gibbs

"McMilligan had increased levels of testosterone, androstenediol, androstenedione, nandrolone and stanozolol, which all increase muscle mass and strength. His levels were through the roof."

"He was taking steroids?"

"Or being made to take them, yes." replied McGee, "My guess would be that having levels that high would result in some serious cardiac issues with the heart being put under so much pressure. So, officially, he died of heart failure, but unofficially, my bets are on a drug overdose."

"Good job, McGee" said Gibbs, before he stood up and climbed the steps back out of his basement. A second later they heard his front door slam.


	7. Twenty-nine Hours Missing

Tony woke up disorientated; he was lying on his side with his arm pinned beneath him, it had gone numb. He tried to roll on to his back but was immediately overwhelmed with nausea so he decided to stay where he was. He tried to open his eyes but they felt sore and swollen so he kept them closed, and tried to use his other senses to work out where he was.

He felt strange. It took him a second to place what it was because he still felt groggy and sick, but after a second it clicked: He was moving.

He felt like hell. His head was throbbing and he could taste blood. He tried to lift his right arm to his head but a searing pain shot through his arm and down his chest. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and he let out a yelp. Definitely broken, he concluded.

He fought through the nausea and tried his left arm. It was stiff, but other than that seemed fine. He reached up and felt his forehead. He winced, it wasn't bleeding but it hurt like hell. Then he slowly lifted his head, holding his breath as he did, and felt the back; the blood from earlier had dried and matted his hair. He put his head back down and breathed out heavily as he did.

He ran through a checklist in his head. Could he wiggle his toes? Yes. Feel his feet? Yes. Move his ankles? Yes. Knees? Yes.

His stomach and back ached, but he clenched and released his muscles and determined that he could probably still move okay. Left arm? Yes Right arm? No. Neck? Yes.

He was probably going to be okay.

The next step was to open his eyes. He concentrated all his effort on forcing them open, just a little. They were heavy and fought against him, but he did it. The final pieces of the puzzle fell together: He was in the trunk of a car.

~.o.~

Ziva was sitting at her desk running through the events of the past few days in her head. She listed the facts that she knew to be true: Tony had arrested McMilligan, but now McMilligan was dead and Tony was missing. McMilligan had taken drugs or been drugged. There had been a fight in which a second person had come out worse than McMilligan. That person was currently missing and had a head injury, but was probably still alive.

Then she thought of the things that she assumed but didn't know to be true: That person was Tony.

But how could she prove it? She swore she could feel herself going crazy thinking about it. Her mind kept going around and around in circles and coming back to the same thing: Find Tony. But how?

If she were working the case she would put out a BOLO for him and use security cameras from inside the ship to find out what time he'd left the ship at. Then trace all vehicles leaving the ship yard during that time. That was bound to bring up something. But she wasn't allowed to work the case - or rather, she wasn't allowed to get caught working the case, so she had to do deskwork and feel completely useless until someone worked out a way to get the information they needed.

McGee, who was sitting at his desk, watched the expression on Ziva's face getting steadily more pained and her grip on her computer mouse getting steadily tighter. When he was sure the mouse couldn't withstand any more pressure he said "Hey Ziva. Maybe you should head home for a few hours?" She hadn't been home since Tony had gone missing and there was nothing they could do until the rest of the staff left anyway.

Ziva was jolted from her thoughts and it took her a few seconds to register what Tim had said to her. She was about to decline and say that she didn't need to sleep or eat or wash anyway but then she thought about. It was 2100 and getting dark. The building wouldn't be empty enough for them to do anything productive until midnight, so maybe she should grab a batnap while she had the chance. Sitting here driving herself crazy wasn't going to help Tony.

"You're right Tim." She stretched and stood up. "I'll be back at 0015." She grabbed her weapon and her car keys and headed to the parking garage.

The journey home wasn't long but she was exhausted, mentally and physically, so it seemed a lot longer than it was. The case had struck a lot closer to home than she was expecting. They usually found themselves dealing with middle aged military men, but this time they were dealing with women in their thirties who lived on their own. That was her. She liked to pretend she was a lot less like them than she was because of her training, but it wasn't true. She rarely showed her emotions but felt them just as keenly as anyone else.

Right now, she was scared. Not for herself, she could hold her own against any attacker, but for Tony. She knew he was a good agent, but how good was he when he was lost, concussed and possibly seriously injured? They had become good friends, and she had found herself feeling a… tenderness towards him. She allowed herself to admit that she would probably be upset if he died.

She'd lost many close friends before but there was something different about Tony – she couldn't quite place it. He wasn't a killer or an assassin or a criminal, he was just Tony. He may think about sex constantly and maybe even have killed people, but there was an innocence about Tony. When Ziva had first tried to profile him she thought she understood him, but she'd been so wrong. Beneath the bad jokes and the bravado he was sad and scared and lonely. He'd wasn't close with his family, he'd lost his best friend and he moved from woman to woman trying to not get close because he knew how losing people felt. Ziva's eyes prickled with tears, it wasn't the first time she'd cried over Anthony DiNozzo, but this time it was different, because she didn't know that the last time she saw him might be the last time ever.

If she had she might have dealt with it so differently.

_It was 0700 and he would really rather have been anywhere else but here. It was a Saturday, he shouldn't even have been working today! He slumped down and his desk, throwing his bag out beside him as he did so. He let out an audible groan as his head sunk down on to the table._

"_Suffering?" purred Ziva. She'd seen him briefly after work last night when She, McGee, Abby, Ducky, Palmer, Agent Lee and Tony had decided to grab a drink, but Tony had to leave early for his date with Anna from accounting. _

_Tony grunted something into the desk that she wasn't even sure were words before lifting his head slowly from the desk. "She was a cat lady!"_

"_So you had to get blind drunk?" Ziva arched an eyebrow._

"_She went on and on and on, and then she didn't even invite me back to her place!"_

"_You're such a skeeze!" scoffed Ziva._

"_That's sleaze, Ziva." Corrected McGee as he entered the bullpen, and sat down at his desk. _

"_Seriously, Tony - " Ziva stood up and sauntered over to his desk. She placed both her hands on it and leant forward. "What is it that makes you feel so entitled to women's bodies?" It was a cruel question, she knew he was never going to admit that he craved the illusion of intimacy and affection of sex without any of the emotional closeness that a relationship would bring, but she was hoping that perhaps he would reply with something interesting. _

_He floundered for a second searching for a witty answer before Gibbs walked in, "DiNozzo, grab your gear!" Gibbs shouted as he walked to his desk. Tony jumped up, lifting his bag and doubled checked that his gun was in the holster. His head didn't appreciate the sudden movement but his hangover was slowly fading, thank god! He paused for a second and looked to Gibbs for reassurance, "Go!" He shouted pointed towards the lift. _

"_On it Boss!" He trotted off towards the elevator, before being followed shortly by Gibbs. _

That was the last time she had seen him. It was no different than the way they usually interacted, but she couldn't help but feeling guilty. The feminist in her applauded her for calling his attention to his blatant misogyny, but she knew that the root of his behaviour went much deeper than that. She'd worked it out a while ago by accent.

_She'd done her best to get to know the team in her first few months at DC. It had been difficult, especially with Abby, since they were all still grieving Kate's death. Her social skills were not great either, which didn't help. In a moment of desperation she had almost stooped to googling 'how to make friends' but she hadn't quite stooped that low. _

_It was Ducky who gave her the idea to have a dinner party. When he began to warm up to her she found herself on the reciprocating end of one of his tales. This one was about the Israeli dish he'd once gotten on a family holiday to Egypt during his college years. She didn't have the heart to tell him the dish he was describing was certainly not an Israeli dish. _

_On impulse she blurted out that if Ducky wanted to try some real Israeli food she could cook it for him, but he took that a little more literally than she had intended and before she knew it he had invited himself and the rest of the team to her apartment for dinner. _

_When she got home that night she looked forlornly around her apartment. She had never been one for little comforts. It was three rooms: a tiny kitchen, a tiny bathroom and an everything else room. Her mattress was on the ground in the centre of the floor, a sofa was against the wall at the far end of the room, with a bookcase filled with novels in various languages beside it and a clothes rack, such as you would see in a shop, sat against the other wall holding all her clothes. It wasn't that she couldn't afford anything else; it was just that she had never seen the need for it._

_In an attempt to make it look a little more homely before her guests arrived she pushed her mattress into the corner of the room, pulled the sofa out from against the wall and put it in the centre of the room facing away from her bed, as though it was a room boundary. In front of that she put a mismatched set of table and chairs which she had gotten from a charity shop. _

_Shortly after they finished work Ducky, Gibbs, McGee, Abby, Palmer and Jenny arrived. She hadn't expected Gibbs to show up, but she was glad he did, especially since he brought a bottle of wine with him, as did Ducky, Abby, McGee, Jenny and Palmer. They could have coordinated a little better, but she wasn't complaining because she enjoyed drinking it. Abby also brought a game of Twister, which she coerced Ziva, McGee and Palmer into player with her once they had drank a few glasses of wine each._

_She hadn't invited Tony. She'd been sure that he'd have a date anyway and, to be honest, she wasn't so sure she liked him. He came across very arrogant and child-like, so she hadn't felt bad for not inviting him, but once Abby let slip that Ziva had cooked dinner for her and she saw the look on his face, she instantly a pang of guilt. _

_She should have invited him. Even if he had a date he could have just said no. It occurred to her that, as they were partners, she probably should have been making more of an effort with him than she was with the others, not less. That was when she decided to invite him around for dinner on his own._

_So, the next night she made it right: They had diner together in her apartment, the leftovers from the night before. He appreciated the food, but not quite as much as he appreciated the wine. After a few hours of alcohol fuelled tales about McGee and Palmer playing Twister, which had made Tony's wine come back out his nose, he excused himself to go to the bathroom, and while she waited for him to come back for dessert she lifted his wallet from the table. In a slot at the front there was a picture of a young woman, she had shoulder length brown hair and was smiling at the camera. The picture was of the inside of a film theatre and she was holding a popcorn bucket and sporting a pair of very flattering 3d glasses. Just at that moment Tony came in, still wiping his hands on his trouser. "You didn't tell me you were seeing anyone, Tony." she teased._

"_I'm not." He didn't seem interested in continuing the conversation, but her interest had been piqued so she pushed._

"_Come on, DiNozzo. Who is the lucky lady?"_

"_She's my mother." He snatched the wallet and photo from her hands and tucked them back safely inside his jacket pocket. _

"_You and she must be very close."_

"_She's dead." He snapped, sitting back down on the sofa beside her, albeit a little farther away than before he got up. _

"_Tony, I am so sorry. I wouldn't have mentioned it -"_

_He cut her off. "She died when I was eight. I like to keep a picture of her… in my wallet." He sounded like he'd been about to say something more, but she didn't push. They were both a little too tipsy to deal with this conversation so instead she reached out and squeezed his hand. He didn't stay for dessert. _

She let herself into her apartment. After her dinner party she had decided that, for the comfort of others (or at least that's what she kept telling herself), she had moved into a slightly bigger apartment in the same building. Now she had a bathroom, kitchen, bedroom and living room! She had even invested in a television, which she had to admit, she was enjoying more than she had expected to.

But tonight she needed the sleep more than she needed to Jerry Springer, so she walked straight to her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes as she walked to the bathroom and struggled out of her trousers as she brushed her teeth. While she went to the toilet she unclipped her bra beneath her t-shirt and slid it off through her sleeve. Then, less than five minutes after arriving home, she slid into her bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

At 1115 Ziva David awoke with a start. _What was that?_ Her hand automatically flew beneath her pillow to her weapon, but it wasn't there. _Shit. _In her sleepy haze she had left it on the passenger seat of her car. She pushed back the duvet and slid out of bed, completely silently. She crept to the door, grateful that she had closed it on her way back from the bathroom, and pressed her ear to it. She heard a floorboard creak. _There was someone in her house._

**If you're enjoying the story, why not review? It's great incentive to make me work faster. And if you aren't, give me a shout and let me know how I can step up my game!**


	8. Thirty-one Hours Missing

**I renamed the chapters to give you a better idea of the time-scale we're looking at. Also I'm not from the US so excuse any mistakes I make when I'm taking about 'blocks', 'pants' and 'cells' etc. I hope what I said sounds realistic, let me know if not and I'll change it! **

"Jethro." Jenny called out Gibbs' name to alert him of her presence as she walked down the stairs to his basement. The photographs from this afternoon's 'autopsy' were still on the floor of his boat, but she pretended not to notice them.

Gibbs was leaning against his workbench, drinking a beer. She noticed that there was a second one sitting next to it – he'd been expecting her. She took a drink from it, before sitting down on his chair.

"Yeah?" he questioned.

"What? I can't just visit with my old partner."

"Never said you couldn't." for a few moments they fell into silence.

"If you don't stop harassing my agents, I'm going to have to suspend you."

He smirked. "I'm just doing my job."

"By lurking in a part of the building you have reason to be in all day?"

"I'm just observing." he took a swig of her beer.

"Did you observe anything of interest?" she cocked an eyebrow.

"Should I have?"

"I just thought that you might have overheard a conversation between a few other agents saying that they found DiNozzo's blood in the store room they found Petty Officer McMilligan's body in."

He waited, staring at her.

"Or perhaps you overheard them saying that a stronger radio signal was used to overwrite the security footage both on board the ship and externally in the dock so we have no way of knowing how DiNozzo left the ship, or where he went."

"Do you know what I did hear, Jenny?" said Gibbs quietly, "I heard them saying that they're investigating my agent!" His tone got harsher as he spoke.

"You can't deny that it looks bad, Jethro! Both men were that store and only one of them left alive and now he's gone AWOL! My men swept that place from top to bottom and they were definitely the only two people in there."

"Petty Officer McMilligan died of a heart attack!" he shouted back at her.

"Healthy marines don't just drop dead, something caused it!"

"And _your men _think it was my agent?"

"Yes."

"Do you?"

"I don't know what to think, Jethro! Anthony had the intelligence to overwrite those tapes and the opportunity."

"But he doesn't have a motive." Gibbs' voice had taken on a strained tone.

"He thinks McMilligan is torturing and killing women in the DC area, and I can think of at least one woman whom he's particularly close to that he'd like to protect."

"…_Ziva_?" Gibbs sounded incredulous.

"I know that Ziva can handle herself, but does Dinozzo? He's not exactly known for his respect of women."

"Why would he run instead of coming to me?"

"Maybe he knew he was in the wrong and there was nothing that even the infamous Leroy Jethro Gibbs could do."

At that moment Gibbs' cell phone rang. The shrill metallic ring cut Gibbs off before he could defend Tony further, and although he wouldn't admit it, he was secretly grateful, because even he knew it looked bad.

"Gibbs." He pressed the phone to his ear.

"_Gibbs, there's someone in my house." _On the other end of the line Ziva David hissed into the phone under her breathe.

"I'm on my way, Ziver." He hung up and started up the stairs.

"Jethro?" Jenny called, reminding him of her presence.

He didn't reply, just motioned with his head for her to follow before setting off up the stairs.

~.o.~

Outside Ziva's apartment Gibbs opened the door to his car and stepped out. They drove fifty blocks in five minutes and Jenny was looking a little shaken. Gibbs noticed instantly that the streetlight closest to Ziva's apartment was out, he imagined that it had been broken, perhaps shot, but he didn't stop to investigate. He strode quickly across the garden to Ziva's apartment building.

"On your six." Said Jenny as she jogged to keep with him and drew her gun from her holster.

Gibbs knew that Ziva could handle herself but he still wasn't going to leave her without back-up for any longer than he had to so he shot the lock and pushed open the door. He took the stairs to Ziva's floor two at a time and jogged down the hallway. He braced himself to kick open her door when it flew open and a short man in his late twenties ran right into him. Behind him in the doorway stood Ziva David, wearing nothing but her t-shirt and underwear, brandishing a kitchen knife with a manic look in her eyes.

Gibbs grabbed the man, who was looking more and more terrified by the second, by the shoulders and pushed him back into Ziva's apartment. "Where do you think you're going?" He snarled, and the man emitted a whimper.

"She's crazy… she's crazy!" He babbled.

Jenny raised an eyebrow at Ziva, who just shrugged, "I only scared him a little." She set down the knife, before disappearing through the door to her bedroom and returning a second later wearing a pair of pants and with her hair tied back.

Gibbs had pushed the man on to the sofa and was towering over him menacingly with Ziva and Jenny close behind him. Jenny's hand was rested on her hip with her fingers lightly touching her gun and Ziva, who had picked her knife back up was using it to clean beneath her nails. Looking franticly between the three people before him the assailant couldn't decide who he was more frightened of. _He hadn't signed up for this._

He tried to look anywhere but the eyes of the man who was staring at him. He felt himself begin to sweat under the power of his gaze. He began to speak, hoping that if he broke the silence this moment would end, "I…" but the older man leant forward and rested a hand on either side of him so his face was only inches from his, in a mockery of listening to him intently, so he trailed off instead.

"Ziva!" He suddenly shouted standing up straight, "have a shower, get changed and eat something. I don't want to see you near the naval base until the morning." The Israeli woman looked as though she was going to protest, but then she closed her mouth again and nodded.

"Yes, Boss."

"And you…" Gibbs grabbed him by the hair and dragged him into a standing position, "are coming back to DC with me." He whimpered in response, both out of fear and pain, but allowed himself to be half-dragged out of the apartment by the older man, closely followed by the woman with the gun.

Ziva stood still in her living room until she heard Gibbs' car pull away, then she pulled on a pair of shoes and a jacket, before grabbing her keys and heading out the door of her apartment.

She opted for the elevator; the small space gave her a false sense of security. It took a little longer than the stairs but she still had hours before she needed to head to work and she knew she wasn't going to be able to sleep again anyway. The elevator doors opened with a ding and she stepped inside. Thankfully it was empty.

As the doors closed she squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands. She was shaking. _How had she been so stupid? _She never forgot her gun; she should not have let her guard down like that. Her eyes prickled with tears, but she fought against them making her eyes burn and her throat ache. She swallowed and regained her composure as the lift doors opened.

She jogged the entire way to her car and checked that the back seat and trunk were empty before sliding into the front seat of her car and picking up her gun. She held it to her chest, comforted instantly. She knew that she could defend herself without it, but perhaps not so effectively as usual given that she was starving and sleep deprived. _Thank god that man had been as puny and inexperienced as he was._

She considered not going back up to her apartment, but Gibbs was right: She needed a shower and food. So, she slipped her gun in between her belt and the band of her pants, before locking her car and heading back up the stairs.

Once back inside she locked the door to her apartment then checked in every room and cupboard. Once she was certain that there was nowhere anyone could be hiding she went over the entire apartment again making sure there were no bugs, cameras or bombs. Once satisfied, she went into the bathroom. She was still shaken but hopefully a shower would make her feel a little better.

She hadn't realised how tense her muscles had gotten until she felt the warm water soothing them. She rubbed her shoulders, but it didn't help very much. No amount of warm water or massaging could bring DiNozzo back, and so no amount of warm water or massaging could make her feel better. It did make her muscles ache a little less though, so it helped in that respect.

She had meant to use the shower as an opportunity to clear her mind, but she found that she couldn't stop her mind from spinning: In the space of a day DiNozzo had gone missing and a man had broken into her apartment. "I don't believe in coincidences." She heard Gibbs' voice echoing in her head. So, they were connected; she was almost certain of that.

But how? She contemplated this as she shampooed her hair. She was none the wiser by the time she finished, but she had no doubt that Gibbs would be finding out at this very moment.

~.o.~

"You gonna tell me who you are?" Gibbs sat across the small interrogation table with his eyes boring into the small, crying man. He pinned his lips shut and bit into them with his teeth to keep them closed.

"Hey!" Gibbs stood up from his seat, which went flying out beneath him and clattered across the floor. He slammed the palms of his hands down on to the table and leant forward. "I asked you a question."

He saw the lips of the man in front of him begin to quiver. This was going to be easier than he had thought.

"No? Let's try another one then: Why were you in Ziva David's apartment tonight?"

The man glared at the table before him and dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. He was trembling.

Gibbs walked slowly around the table until he was standing beside the man. Then he leant down and stopped a few inches from his ear and in a voice so low that only he could hear he whispered, "I am going to make you talk. It's up to you whether I'm nice about it or not." The man flinched as he processed the meaning of the words.

"I'll talk." He whispered, in a husky voice.

Gibbs walked back to the other side of the desk and picked up his chair before sitting down again. "Who are you?" he questioned in a harsh tone.

"M-my name is Samuel Brannigan." The man stuttered out.

"Where were you on Wednesday night between 1600 hours and midnight?

"Work." Samuel whispered.

"Where?!" Gibbs was losing his patience.

"The Navy Base, sir. I'm a medical assistant." He still hadn't made eye contact.

"Can anyone vouch for that?"

"The chief medical examiner and about a dozen other staff members." So this man couldn't have been on the ship at the same time as DiNozzo. _That doesn't mean he wasn't involved though. I don't believe in coincidences._

"Why were you in Officer David's apartment?" At this Samuel clammed up again. He furrowed his brow and squeezed his lips shut.

"Hey!" Gibbs shouted again, it had worked last time so he was hoping it would work again, but he just shook harder and started to cry. "…alright then." Gibbs stood up and slowly took his jacket off. For the first time since they had left Ziva's apartment Samuel looked up at Gibbs and watched his every move. Gibbs moved slowly, never taking his eyes of Samuel's as he hung him coat over the camera in the corner of the room and began to roll up his sleeves.

"I was going to kill her!" He blurted out suddenly, as he started sobbing.

"Why?!"

"I needed to stop you investigating Petty Officer McMilligan…"

"Keep going!"

"Because I drugged him with steroids to enhance his performance… in bed… with me." He looked back down at the table, with his face glowing red, and streaks of tears running down his face. "Then he flipped out and killed those women." He finished quietly.

"So you were going to kill my agent to cover your ass?" Gibbs shouted, moving closer to the man again.

"Yes, Sir."

Gibbs didn't say another word. Instead he grabbed his jacket from where it was hanging from the camera and walked out of the interrogation room. As he walked past the door to the observation room it swung open and he was joined by Director Jenny Shepherd. "Was that a confession?"

Gibbs remained silent, his jaw set and his eyes determined.

"You don't believe him?"

"Nope."

**Thank you so much for all your reviews. They are all appreciated. Sorry this chapter took a few more days than usual but it's a little longer to make up for that. I'll work my hardest to get the next one up asap. **


	9. Thirty-four Hours Missing

"McGee – I thought I told you to go home?" Gibbs and Jenny entered the bullpen and the director slumped down in Ziva's chair.

"You did – I mean, earlier, I thought about it, but then I came back because – um, Boss -"

"McGee?"

"I have a lead."

Gibbs looked expectantly at McGee, who opened his mouth to begin talking but closed it again and looked warily at the director, then questioningly at Gibbs.

"Spit it out McGee." Gibbs ordered.

"…On my way to my car I… took the scenic route via the sub-basement and… uh… overheard the time that the security cameras on the shipyard were overridden." He said, while casting anxious glances at the director. "At first I thought nothing of it, but then I had a thought, so I came straight back and looked at the tape just before the loop began. Then I looked at it just after the loop stopped and got and the got the license plate of all the vehicles that had left in that time." Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Boss - if Tony's not on the ship then he left in one of those vehicles. I narrowed it down to these three." He pointed to three navy release cars on the screen. I put a BOLO out on them..." he checked his watch, "around an hour ago. I got a hit on these two, they're both issued to navy personnel from the ship, who are currently off base. I was gonna get Ziva to check them out when she gets back in. This one is issued to the Special Agent Stewart, the Agent Afloat, who was reassigned yesterday morning, and this one is licensed to Commander Richardson. The third one's harder to find because it never left base." At that moment his phone rang. "McGee… Boss, we got a hit on the other car… It's issued to a Ferris Barratt at -"

"The Medical Unit." Finished Gibbs.

McGee hung up the phone, "Yeah, Boss, how did you –"

"Just a feeling." Gibbs stood up and strode off towards the lift, followed closely by the director, who nearly walked into him when he suddenly stopped, "McGee – get some sleep."

~.o.~

Gibbs unlocked the car and slid into the driver's seat, before putting the keys in the ignition. As the car roared to life Jenny climbed into the passenger's seat and buckled her seatbelt. "You still here?" he questioned.

"I care about DiNozzo as much as you do." She said softly.

"I don't need babysat, Jen."

"I didn't think you did. I know you're under a lot of pressure and I just want to help."

"At two in the morning?"

"You think I don't know by now that you do your best detective work at ungodly hours?" She smirked. Gibbs tilted his head, she had a point.

"You haven't slept since he went missing." Gibbs pointed out, hoping she would take the hint and go home.

"Neither have you." She protested.

"I don't need sleep – I have coffee."

Gibbs put the car into gear and drove out of the parking garage. "It's a thirty limit." Jenny reminded him, but he shot her 'the Gibbs look' and she shut her mouth. At least if she didn't speak he would keep his eyes on the road ahead. He drove straight to the Medical Unit. It would be at least three more hours before Ziva would get in to search it for evidence, but he needed to get a look at that car. He pulled to a stop outside the building and they both got out and walked to the front door. Gibbs pressed a buzzer to gain access and the door opened, with a buzz, to what appeared to be a waiting room. It smelt sharp and clinical and every aspect of it was a little too clean. The main part of the room was taken up with rows of chairs, which were now empty, and a few racks which were filled with magazines and newspapers. In one corner was a matt which a few children's toys sat on. Along the left hand side of the room was a reception desk, behind which sat a woman in her mid-thirties, who had brown hair, with grey roots and slightly more lines around her eyes than you would expect from someone of her age. She looked up from the book she was reading when the door buzzed. She smiled as Gibbs and Jenny approached her, "How can I help you?"

"We think you have a man employed here under the name of Ferris Barratt. Is that correct?" replied Jenny. When they had been partners they'd decided that she should do most of the interactions with the public since that wasn't one of Gibbs' strong points, and old habits die hard.

"Yes, but Dr Barratt isn't in at the moment, perhaps one of our other doctors -"

Gibbs cut her off by pulling out his badge and saying, "NCIS. We're investigating him in relation to the disappearance of one of our agents. Do you know where we can find him?"

The woman behind the desk furrowed her brow and began to type rapidly on the keyboard in front of her. After a few seconds she began to speak. "He lives on base." She pulled a piece of paper out of her printer and folded it, before scrawling something on it. "Here's his address." She said as she held it out. Gibbs took it and was about to walk away before she added. "Dr Barratt was one of the doctors on call tonight, and we paged him a few hours ago but he didn't turn up. He's due in at seven am, though." Jenny thanked her for her help, then jogged away to keep up with Gibbs who was already half way to the car.

The address she had given them was close by so it only took them a few minutes to drive there, but even before they had pulled away from the Medical Unit Gibbs felt a churning in his gut. _Something wasn't right._

As they got closer they began to hear first the sirens and then the shouts, Gibbs put more force on the accelerator and within seconds they were close enough to see the fire. "Shit." He said outloud, as he braked suddenly a few feet from the fire engine. He looked over at Jenny, whose face held the expression that matched what he was feeling. "That's our car."

Gibbs jumped out of the car and flashed his badge at the fireman who approached him. "What do we got?" He questioned, nodding towards the burned out car, which was now smouldering.

"You bein' here already makes this a little easier 'cause we were gonna call you anyways. Seems to be a body in the trunk."


End file.
